


Indy and the Antique Brains

by Cherimola



Category: As the World Turns
Genre: First Time, M/M, Romance, Sex Toys, Travelogue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-14
Updated: 2011-07-14
Packaged: 2017-10-27 23:37:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/301298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cherimola/pseuds/Cherimola
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Luke's birthday is a seismic event.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Indy and the Antique Brains

“Do you want to come?”

The tremors masked Luke’s nod. His anus clenched around the last, large bead. Reid watched Luke’s face, his own equally wet and bright, his fingers tickling Luke’s hole where they held the ring at the base of the silicon dildo. As Luke trembled, Reid twisted – the toy suddenly rumbled, its vibrations pulsing up Reid’s arm and down deep into Luke, triggering the beginning of the end.

“Gunnngh—” Luke pressed his ass higher, back arching, elbows and forehead pressing into the mattress.

Reid lay on his side, on an elbow, the other arm engaged in gradually pulling the dildo from Luke’s body. Reid paused as the largest bead stretched Luke’s opening; he watched elastic waves propagate over taut flesh.

“Reeee—unnnngh.”

Blinking against the sweat on his lashes, Reid withdrew another bead. Light glinted off his chest with each ragged breath. His hand was steady.

Luke’s body was not. Shivers were turning to bucks. “Reid—ungh, Reid—I need—”

Reid pushed the last large bead back in, twisting.

Luke simultaneously gasped, swallowed, and whined. He pressed back against Reid’s hand, the quaking of his ass, chest, arms tipping the scale, scrambling his mind beyond the ability to time the imminent eruption.

Reid, though both scrambled and ready to erupt – his massive, deep-colored cock howled for attention against his ridged abdomen – saw it coming. Was ready. For he was, at this point, irrevocably linked to Luke. He had been for a while, of course, since that second or third time – he just hadn’t known it, hadn’t accepted it, not fully, until _the_ first time. Six days ago. On Luke’s birthday.

_“Maybe I could come with you.”_

_“Do you want to come?”_

_Luke’s bravado faltered at Reid’s answering question. Yes, Luke had meant to imply that he was ready, finally. That the shape of the idea of Reid’s being in another city, another **state** , on Luke’s birthday was sharp enough to cut. But the sudden smoke – rolling in dense rippling waves – in Reid’s voice tripped the detectors in Luke’s insecurity centers, those fortified bunkers sending signals of ‘too soon, too strong, too different.’ Sirens sounded in response to the roiling magma of emotion pressing up against bedrock, infiltrating fissures, building up pressure. Luke was afraid of the geologic shift that Reid represented, of the inevitable explosion. And not so much a fear of the bubbling lust (if only) as it was of the awareness that such tectonic activity was something new. He'd thought he had known what it was to feel the Earth move. Reid had made him question. Made him yearn. Denial, shame, disloyalty – these had been holding Luke back. But when he’d asked Reid to spend his birthday with him, when Reid had told him about the out-of-town seminar he couldn’t reschedule—_

_Luke was ready to respond to Reid’s question. He nodded. And looked up through his lashes, a secret smile opening on his lips._

Which had brought them to this bed, in this hotel, in downtown Indianapolis.

Superficially, during the flight and drive Luke and Reid had seemed casual with each other, comfortable. Yet a careful observer would have caught subtle signs of seismic activity – a brushed knee, an accelerated heartbeat. Needles spiked when they saw the bed. After gingerly removing the bedspread and placing it in a corner, Reid left for IU Hospital while Luke stayed behind to plan the evening’s celebration, researching the best restaurants, the most romantic strolls.

They never made it out of the hotel room. When Reid had returned, Luke was almost done buttoning his dress shirt. Almost.

That was all it took.

The next day, puzzled seismologists rechecked their maps for nearby fault lines.

Luke and Reid’s reservation had been for one night; they stayed for six. On the third day, housekeeping began leaving fresh sheets and towels outside the door. By the fourth, management had made the decision to leave the rooms on either side vacant.

The fourth day was also when Luke and Reid had stopped using condoms.

Not because they’d run out – which they had, of course, of both their optimistic stashes. As Luke hid his head under a pillow, Reid calmly instructed the front desk to deliver sexual supplies. Once Reid hung up Luke emerged; he turned his head, laying his cheek on the pillow. Wordlessly watching.

“What?” Reid rested his palm in the hollow of Luke’s naked back, his fingers contracting rhythmically.

“I was just—maybe we don’t need… _all_ of that order.”

Reid raised a brow. “After what we’ve put it through, I wouldn’t recommend doing anything un-lubed to that hole of yours.” His lids lowered. “Or mine.”

Luke pressed unconsciously into the damp mattress. “No…I mean—” He licked his lips. “The condoms.”

Reid’s hand, face, breath, stilled.

Luke bit his lower lip, released it. He took a breath. “It had been—a lot more than three months, and—” The last was on a whisper: “I was tested last week.”

Reid remained frozen, his eyes gleaming like ice, the only movement the pads of his fingers sinking into the flesh of Luke’s back.

Luke’s next breath caught. His neck tensed as he lifted his cheek from the pillow. “Not that I—” Unsettling tremors ran from heart to eyes. “I mean—I guess I just assumed—”

“It had been six months and 20 days.”

With now-molten eyes, Reid watched Luke’s own change from confused to calculating to comparably hot. The temperature of the room rose only further as they waited; subsurface layers liquefied, boiled.

A naked Reid went to the door at the knock, grabbing a tip from the dresser, barely catching a pillow one-handed from Luke. He accepted a plastic bag from the shocked and awed bellhop; closing the door Reid turned, his eyes pinning Luke as he removed only the bottle of lubricant, dropping the rest by the door. Luke inched up the headboard as Reid approached with slow, smooth strides, crawling over Luke’s body like a cat when he reached the foot of the wide bed, eclipsing Luke’s pale skin with his shadow, the bottle in his mouth, dropping it on Luke’s belly. Luke’s hands were like lightning readying Reid, readying himself. There was no hesitation. Sometime during the blurred nights and days Luke had begun to move beyond the fear, to embrace his eruptive potential. To accept that Reid alone fueled the fires in his core.

The only break in the action came when Reid’s bare, leaking glans began to breach Luke’s sucking hole. Foreheads touching, Reid grasped Luke’s hand, bringing the palm to his lips. They spoke silently to each other, acknowledging the moment. They spoke to themselves, secretly committing. Each assumed this wasn’t a new experience for the other. They were both wrong.

The act itself was—indescribable. Afterward, they clutched each other as they slipped into sleep, branded and sealed, fused with a finality they only partially comprehended.

On the sixth day Luke took pity on housekeeping. Thanks to a particularly inventive bout of encouragement (including an assist from room service), he was able to convince Reid to let their room be thoroughly cleaned. Luke balked, however, when he saw himself in the full-length mirror for the first time. With distracting hands and lips, Reid assured him that not only would most of the marks be covered by clothing but that bloodshot and hollowed became him. Luke almost believed him, primarily because looking at Reid’s equally ravaged form inspired only redoubled lust.

Several attempts later, they successfully left the room. Luke took Reid to Bazbeaux’s Pizza, relishing the predictable eye roll when Reid looked away from him long enough to notice the Massachusetts Ave sign. Inside, eyes and fingers were gooey as they fed each other four oozing cheeses off each other’s slices. They were genuinely oblivious to the range of reactions around them, to their being watched by all eyes. All but two – the woman in the Colts jersey at the next table seemed equally oblivious as she blew out the listing candles on her pizza. Neither Luke nor Reid noticed the smartphone she held on the seat beside her, recording everything.

It took blow jobs in the parking lot (interrupted only by a blurred blue and white “18” outside the car window) to convince Reid not to drag Luke immediately back to the hotel. They drove instead in the other direction, in what Reid insisted was the wrong direction, over the White River, past aging houses, into green, too much green—Reid abruptly stopped his verbal abuse of the GPS when he saw the sign. He let Luke lead him out of the car and toward the formidable brick Victorian building, lifting his hand to the back of Luke’s neck as they stepped into the past, into the oldest building in the country dedicated to discovering how damage to the brain could lead to disorders of the mind.

“Welcome to the Indiana Medical History Museum! You must be Luke,” smiled a jacketed woman, brown hair bouncing. “I’m JoAnne!”

Reid let her shake his hand, eyes already absorbing turn-of-the-century artifacts on walls and in corners. He followed her into the tiered teaching amphitheater, through the histology lab, down dark wood hallways, past bloodletting kits and ether canisters and kangaroo-tendon sutures. Dimly hearing the docent’s voice, Reid, one hand in Luke’s, traced the burnished copper and hygienically suspect tile counter with the other in the chemistry lab. He catalogued antique instruments beneath plexiglas in the autopsy room, letting Luke listen to stories of providing families free funerals in an adjacent room in exchange for consent, and of blood and other fluids coming to rest in the White River. To his credit, Luke was able to enjoy Reid’s rapture while still being fully engaged with their energetic guide. He managed to catch the exact moment when Reid realized he’d entered the room housing the anatomical collection. Reid revolved nearly completely, Luke moving with him, careful of their clasped hands, watching as Reid took it in – the walls of glass cabinets, the endless shelves of brain after brain after brain. Reid turned suddenly to Luke, tugging him close.

“I love you.” Reid captured Luke’s gasp with firm, claiming lips, drawing back with softly smiling eyes. Luke’s head bobbed slightly, his eyes and mouth round.

Their guide recovered first. As she explained that the display cards were originals, Reid studied each jarred specimen, paying respects to 70-year-old tumors and atrophied syphilitic brains. He kept Luke close, pointing out misdiagnoses, ridiculing cerebral arteriosclerosis being deemed “senile psychotic syndrome.” Luke gripped his hand tightly, dazedly, searching Reid’s face, not sure for what, or why.

Luke and the woman waited patiently for Reid to finish his rounds. Luke followed her out, Reid stepping close behind him, hands coming to waist, hips to hips.

“Reid!” Luke whispered, head stretching back. “That did _not_ just turn you on.”

Reid rubbed his reaction against the seam of Luke’s jeans, his lips tickling Luke’s ear. “My two favorite things.”

Luke’s eyes flashed; with a quick look at the guide’s back, he turned his head to graze Reid’s lips. Upon leaving the building, he pressed back against Reid’s hardness, circling his hips with minute movements as he shook the woman’s hand, thanking her sweetly.

Windows fogged quickly back in the rental car. Luke’s mouth covered Reid’s Adam’s apple, his hand Reid’s black-denim-covered crotch. When he spoke, his words were obscured both by shortness of breath and fullness of mouth. “I was—gonna take you—to the speedway museum—but—fuck it. Rather—fuck you.”

His head tilted back, Reid groaned, reaching under Luke to press against his hole through the rough fabric. Neither had been able to find underwear when dressing.

“Ffffuck, _Reid_.”

“Mmm, yes, I know you want to, my little potty mouth. But I’m afraid now it’s your turn to wait. First I’m going to take you for a birthday drink.”

Pulling back, Luke lifted blown, blurry eyes. “What? But Reid—you know I—”

Still rubbing Luke’s ass, Reid programmed the GPS. He nodded at the ignition, sitting back, his expression guileless. “You can go now.”

Luke blinked, then narrowed his eyes. He started the car. “I thought you said you were going to take me.”

The shift on Reid’s face was almost imperceptible. “Oh, I will.”

Attempting to smirk through the blush, Luke turned onto the street, following the female voice. As he drove farther away from downtown, into the rose light of a lowering sun, he sank deeper into himself, wondering at the changes (since when did he say “fuck”?). Wondering if he was heading in the right direction.

He noticed a street sign. “Hold on—‘speedway’? I don’t—are we going there after all? I thought you said—don’t even tell me you managed to arrange something. What, are you gonna chase me around the track?”

“Definitely not. That would take entirely too much time. And, anyway—” The hand high on Luke’s thigh curved inward. “You’ve already let me catch you.”

Luke swallowed as the dulcet voice directed them to turn again. Despite Reid’s dangerously distracting hand, Luke managed to make it to the destination with a minimum of close calls. He pulled into a shadowed parking space under giant red neon lettering.

“Mug ’N’ Bun. Huh. Looks…quaint.”

With a mime’s smile, Reid lifted his hand from Luke’s crotch momentarily to switch on the headlights.

“Um, Reid? Are we getting out?”

Reid removed his hand again only when a young woman with glasses, a smile, and a Mug ’N’ Bun visor approached the car. Lowering his window, Luke let Reid lean over and take charge; Luke and the waitress seemed equally thrown to learn that Reid had already called in the order. Both then struggled not to react when Reid’s hand disappeared in the vicinity of Luke’s lap. Both also struggled not to enjoy it.

She returned several minutes later, eyes up, to hook an overloaded tray onto the window. “Enjoy your food! My name's Steph – if you need anything else, just turn your lights back on.”

Luke sat gaping at the mountain of fried goods as Reid leaned over to retrieve a pork tenderloin sandwich and baskets of smothered chili fries, fried mac and cheese wedges, and various fried vegetables, balancing his booty on his lap. He inserted an oversized onion ring into Luke’s still-open mouth.

Luke chewed. “Whoa, Reid—this is—” He took another. “Holy—this may be the best thing I’ve ever eaten.” Another blush, this time at Reid’s look. “Well, the best _food_.”

With a satisfied nod Reid leaned over again, lifting two frosted glass mugs filled with black and white. He handed one to Luke, who had stuffed several more items into his mouth. He waited for Luke to swallow.

“What’s this?”

“Our drink.” Blue eyes were both gentle and intense as Reid touched their mugs together. “Happy birthday, Luke.”

Luke was still halfway between sea and sky when the contents of the mug slipped past his lips. He quickly became earthbound. “Wait a minute, is this…a root beer float? Oh my—Reid, how did you know? I mean, I don’t think I ever—” He took another sip. “—holy _crap_ —seriously, what _is_ this? This is _amazing_.”

The cryptic smile was back as Reid sipped his own drink. “I may have heard you had a thing for root beer.”

“Ohhh, yes” Luke’s eyes rolled back, “and it’s heavy on the vanilla. And this ice cream—this is just—I can’t even—”

Reid seemed equally transported, in only small part by the food. He shared his mug when Luke’s emptied, let Luke eat from the cartons on his lap. Watched Luke eat and drink with his whole body, committing completely, tasting and smelling and sounding, touching Reid between bites, a thigh, a shoulder, the back of a hand, trailing a frosted finger. The meal was a full contact activity by the end; at the last swallow Luke cleared Reid’s lap, shifting onto it, reaching for Reid’s mouth. Luke melted against him, his tongue offering soft serve and sarsaparilla.

“I love this,” Luke said into Reid’s mouth.

“Glad to hear it.”

“No,” Luke drew back, grasping the sides of Reid’s face, meeting his eyes in the near-dark. “I _love_ this.” Luke held on, pressed in, gaze focused, urgent. “I love this.” He spoke against Reid’s mouth. “Love this.”

Straddled and straddling, they licked salt and sweetness from each other’s mouths, hands in hair, buried and twisting. They moved sinusoidally, echoing aftershocks and precursors. Bearing down with his hips, Luke angled for a moan from Reid. He got one. Reid’s gentle teasing of Luke’s nipple through the soft cotton of his shirt took a turn when he abruptly pinched for pain.

“Gunngh.” Panting, Luke dropped his head to Reid’s shoulder. Reid’s fingers were unrelenting. “Geezu—ungh. Love that. So much. Love it when you bite it.” Luke licked the side of Reid’s neck. “Why do I love it so much?”

Reid's teeth surrounded the fabric covering Luke’s other nipple. “You should get it pierced. Give me something to pull.”

“Wha—?” Luke pulled away. “No, what are you—?” His head dropped, his back hunching. “That’s not—I could never—”

Reid slid a strong hand behind Luke’s neck, weaving his fingers into the hair at the back of his head, forcing him to meet his eyes. His words were low but clear. “Why not?”

The last of Luke’s breath slipped out on descending notes. Surrendering, he attacked. He fed on Reid’s lips and tongue, wet noises ricocheting around the rental. He grabbed Reid’s hand, forcing it beneath his belt in the back, urging Reid’s fingers toward his hole.

They found it.

“Huuungh, yes. Can you feel it?” His tongue flicked Reid’s lower lip. “Can you feel yourself there?”

Luke whimpered as Reid withdrew his hand. He hummed as he watched Reid suck a wet finger into his mouth. He ground against Reid’s lap again.

“You love having something inside you, don’t you?” Reid’s words were soft and coarse.

“I love _you_ inside me. I love falling asleep with you there—with your—your cock still inside. I love that we can do that now, now that we—” He pressed Reid’s mouth to the hollow of his neck, threading his fingers through Reid’s hair. “I love it when your—when it leaks out—when I can feel it dripping down—down my balls. Down my leg. Wish I could keep it all in there—keep all of you inside me.”

“You can.”

It took Luke a moment to register meaning. He pulled Reid’s head back just enough to see his eyes.

“It just takes control.” Leaning forward so that their lips almost touched, Reid took Luke’s wrist, guiding it to the seat of his own jeans. “I still have all of you.”

Luke held his breath, squeezed his eyes shut, thought about Chris Hughes. Did everything he could not to come like a volcano. Opening one eye, he saw their approaching server pivot smoothly, returning to the building. Only once did she peek back; Luke waved weakly.

Dismounting from Reid, Luke opened the car door and unhooked the tray, placing it on the ground along with the empty containers and three twenty-dollar bills.

He didn’t speak until they were back on the main road. “This isn’t—I’m not usually—” He pressed his lips together, silent until the next stop light. “I’m trying to be okay with this. I want—I want to be okay. With this.” He glanced at Reid. “With me.”

Extending his hand, Reid cupped the side of Luke’s face. He started to say something, then shook his head slightly. Slowly, he leaned in, his forehead touching Luke’s temple. “I think you’re perfect.”

The light turned green. Luke wiped his eyes as he accelerated.

He continued to pick up speed through the next light. “Well. We’re gonna need more lube. And there will be _no more_ calling the front desk.”

Reid took out his phone and began to type. “Aye, cap’n.”

Luke suspected insubordination when he was directed to a block dark except for a store promising adult videos. “Really. We couldn’t have just gone to a drugstore?”

“Ah, but Luke—you deserve the best.”

“Hmph.” Luke turned off the ignition. “Betcha didn’t think I’d go in.”

Luke not only went in, but he went directly to the counter, asking the bald man with the ginger goatee which was the best lubricant. “You know, for—for men,” Luke finished, his voice dropping only slightly. His satisfied smile flagged, however, when Reid appeared beside him. And added several items to the order.

Luke lifted one, turned it around, quickly dropped it. “ _Reid_.” He forced low words past the approximation of a smile. “What are you doing?”

Reid’s smile was genuine. He touched Luke’s hand. “Making you feel okay.”

Luke searched Reid’s face again, his eyes. With his other hand, he took out his wallet.

Four hours later, Luke wasn’t okay. His body was shaking, his nipples inflamed, and his stretched ass on fire. He had cum in his hair. Just the thought of anything touching his swollen, oversensitized penis brought pain.

He felt reborn.

As Reid continued to twist the largest bead, Luke unleashed elemental forces, finally trusting that it was safe. Reid was ready for the timing of the release, if not the magnitude; riding out Luke’s bucks with slipping fingers, he withdrew a bead at the peak of each shearing wave.

In the aftermath, Luke lay in Reid’s arms, quaking, amid the rubble. Reid’s name, so loud in Luke’s heart, couldn’t make it past parched lips. His ass, after a brief emptiness, had been filled with Reid’s finger.

Reid’s voice was soft in Luke’s ear. “I’ve got you.”

Luke let the creative destruction play out. He squeezed. Opened.

Eventually, he spoke. “This—has been—the best birthday ever.”

Reid smiled against the slick skin at Luke’s temple. “We’re going on a week now—I’d say we’re pushing the limits.”

Luke craned his neck, meeting Reid’s eyes. “No more limits.”

With small but distinct movements, Reid tilted his head back, eyebrows shifting up. He nodded, once. He traced Luke’s cheekbone with a finger, ending at the corner of his mouth. Turning his head, Luke caught the finger in his mouth. His tongue circled the pad.

Reid’s finger still buried below began to mimic the circular movement. “Hope this hotel has earthquake insurance.”

Luke released the finger in his mouth with a small smack. “Are you saying I rocked your world?”

Reid’s jaw twitched. He swallowed. “I’m saying you broke it open.”

Luke lost a breath.

“I blame the love waves,” Reid said, his tone serious.

Luke blinked, his brow furrowing faintly.

Reid smiled, his face unexpectedly softening with only a hint of wry. “They’re the surface waves that do the most damage during an earthquake. Named after Dr. Augustus Love.” The smile faded, leaving only shaded softness. “They’ve wrecked me.”

Luke swallowed. Almost spoke.

“You’re a force of nature, Luke. They’ll be preserving your brain in a jar one day – sometime in the next century, of course, what with all the upcoming medical advances. They’ll probably be preserving other parts, too.”

Groaning, Luke pinched one of Reid’s nipples. He groaned again when Reid’s finger pressed in and down.

Reid’s voice rumbled. “I just want you to know your own strength. Which I believe you’re well on the way to, if eating yourself out of my ass earlier was any indication.”

Luke’s groan this time was softer but no less intense as he dropped his forehead onto Reid’s chest. He exhaled, his warm breath returning with Reid’s scent.

Luke rolled his head for a clear view of Reid’s eyes. “So, those waves?” He waited for the connection. “I’m pretty sure they got me, too.”

Reid blinked. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. The damage actually started a while ago, though.”

“You don’t say.”

“Like—over six months ago. But I think I only really realized the extent of it here.”

“Huh. Who knew Indy was such a hotbed of seismic activity?”

“Guess it’s a good thing we have to leave tomorrow.”

“I don’t know—I suspect it means Oakdale is in for some Earth shaking.”

“Well, wouldn’t be the strangest thing that’s happened there.”

“Still, I’m thinking maybe it’s best if we try to minimize the impact. Keep it localized to only one epicenter. Like Katie’s apartment.”

Luke lifted his head.

“Until we find someplace more earthquake-proof, that is. I know some might consider it premature—these precautions. But I say you can never be too safe.”

Luke felt the pressure building, pushing from within. This time, he welcomed the fullness. Looked forward to the eruption. He held Reid’s gaze without searching.

“I can’t think of anything safer.”

Luke realized Reid’s chest had stopped moving only when it resumed. Luke reached up for a kiss.

He then reached for the dildo. “Now it’s your turn to come.”

**Author's Note:**

> This story was a birthday gift for the Indy-dwelling, Manning-loving magicbus77.


End file.
